I Will Fear No Evil

28

APPOINTMENTS OPEN—FEDERAL GS-l9 Assistant Welfare Field Operative (Learner-Visitor) Literacy requirement C. Brown Belt or higher gives 10% preference. Veteran's preference, parolee's preference, relevant-experience preference all semi-cumulative. Sec local Civil Service or Welfare office for pre-examinations and salary formulas. Latter based on standard scale plus field cost-of-living factor and hazardous area rating, cumulative.

In a compromise vote today the Society for Rational Astrology accepted a "grandfather clause" in the licensing bill before the Nebraska Legislature. The Committee on Agriculture & Mechanical Arts then voted the amended bill "Do Pass" by 7 to 2—tantamount to passage in the state's unicameral legislature. The Protective Association of Intuitive Astrologers called it "the greatest setback for science since Galileo." The Lunar Commission announced that the Colonies are now 102% self-sufficient in foodstuffs but added that the ten-year-plan would continue in order to increase out-migration potential. MAY-DECEMBER ROMANCE LOSES... at sea in their honeymoon yacht. The young widow remained in seclusion....

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"—door for processing. Pleasure meeting you, Mrs. Garcia; good luck, Doctor. Next applicant! Step lively, sit down over there—your husband not with you? Or is it ‘Miss'?"

"I am a widow, Mr. Barnes."

"So? We don't get many widows, nor does the Commission encourage them. Out-migration is not an escape for emotional problems. Such as bereavement. Nor do we accept applicants so advanced in pregnancy unless there are overriding advantages to the Commission, not the applicant. Take the couple who went through just before you. She's pregnant—but he is a medical doctor, one of the top categories for subsidized out-migration. So I passed her. Might have passed her on her own; she's a nurse. But unless you have such a special qualification—"

"I know, sir. Dr. Garcia is my personal physician."

"Eh? Even if I accept you, that is no guarantee that he would still be your physician on the Moon. Unlikely, in fact, unless, by coincidence—"

"Mr. Barnes, you have my out-migration proposal in front of you. It has been prepared with great care by my attorney. It might save time to glance through it."

"All in good time. You would be surprised at how many people come in here without having the slightest idea of what they are up against. They seem to assume that the Commission is anxious to have them. Nothing could be farther from the truth. Nineteen out of twenty who sit down in that chair I do not permit to go on through the processing door. I make it a practice to get rid of the more obvious time-wasters quickly. Uh, Salomon, Eunice.' Mrs. Salomon, I want to know first—Mrs. ‘Salomon'?"

‘Mrs. Jacob Moshe Salomon,' maiden name ‘Joan Eunice Smith.'"

"Your face did look somewhat familiar but your features, uh—"

"—are chubby now. Yes. I've gained twenty-six pounds—which Dr. Garcia finds satisfactory for my height, build, and date of impregnation."

"That brings up other problems. A woman is often mistaken as to the date—and first babies are notoriously in a hurry to arrive. Our Lunar transports aren't planned for new infants, nor for childbirth. I want you to realize the hazards."

"I know them. Need we go into this?"

"I must be the judge of that."

"Mr. Barnes, my doctor is satisfied that I know the exact date of impregnation and— Is all of this confo?"

"Mmm. I'll put it this way. None of it is privileged. I am a lawyer but not your lawyer. I hear more intimate details from applicants than you can imagine but I haven't time to waste on gossip."

"I am glad to hear that, Mr. Barnes...as l would be much displeased if what I am about to tell you were to become a matter of gossip."

"Hmmph. I think I felt a chill breeze. Are you trying to impress me with your importance? Don't bother; applicants are all the same size once they come in here. Your money doesn't mean a thing."

"Was my manner unfriendly? I'm sorry."

"Well— Let's stick to the business at hand. A lawyer in the Lunar Commission's Civil Service—a job with no squeeze, believe me—doesn't often find himself dealing with rich people. But it makes no difference; if you don't want to be frank with the Commission, that's your problem. But I won't approve an applicant's proposal until I am satisfied about it. All about it. Now you implied that you had something pertinent to tell me which you class as ‘confo.' I don't accept your restriction, Now...do you talk? Or shall we terminate this interview?"

"You leave me no option, sir. This is not a first baby I am carrying, so no ‘first baby' hazard exits. If the ‘Goddard' lifts on schedule, I have every reason to expect to have my baby on the Moon. Dr. Garcia is not worried about the timing and neither am I."

"So? This brings up other problems. This earlier child—does he, or she, affect your estate?"

"No. That is why this must be treated as confo. I did not have that earlier baby."

"Eh? You lost me. Better clarify that."

"Please, Mr. Barnes. I am a sex-change and a brain transplant. Surely you know it—good heavens, the whole world knows it. The first baby this body gave birth to was before that time. It is the reputation of my donor I wish to protect, not mine. The child was illegitimate, and common as that is these days—no longer a legal concept m most states and the very word almost obsolete—so great is my gratitude to the sweet and gracious lady who formerly lived in this body, I would be most unhappy were I to be the cause of any tarnish on her memory."

(Boss, you know I don't give a kark.) (Let her handle it, Eunice; this petty bureaucrat can gum up the works if Joan does not divert him just so. Are we kibitzing Joan?—or are we going to the Moon?) (Hell, yes, we're going to the Moon! My ‘Yes' vote, plus your ‘Yes' vote, plus half of Joan's vote—a natural fence-straddler she is, legs always open—which works out to a five-to-one majority for out-migrating. A landslide!) (So let her alone while she handles him.) (If she didn't have that big belly, she could handle him a lot better. And faster.)

(Hrrmph. Eunice, you claim you were there... so why don't you tell poor old melancholy Jacques the straight on that? It was me, wasn't it? It was I?) (Jock old ghost, I love you dearly-—but if you think I'll split on my twin, you don't know me.) (Oh, well. A baby is a baby is a baby. I just hope it doesn't have two heads.) (Two heads would be stretching a good thing too far. Jock, I'll settle for two balls.) (Thinking about incest, Lively Legs?) (And why shouldn't I think about it? We've tried everything else.)

(Jake, Eunice—will you two please go back to sleep? Squire Pecksniff here is searching for flyspecks on Alec's masterpiece. Trying to think up more objections—which I'll have to answer.)

"Mrs. Salomon, I find myself quite disturbed by one aspect concerning this alleged earlier child—the great likelihood that some future action may be brought challenging your disposition of your estate when this child, or some person claiming to be this child, turns up. The fifty percent of estate required—as a minimum—from any out-migrant not of a subsidized-vocation category is a source of capital to the colonies; the Commission is not willing to part with a dime of it once the Commission carries out its half of the bargain. Yet such a ‘missing heir' could lay claim to all of your estate."

"Most unlikely, Mr. Barnes, but if you will look at ‘Appendix G,' you will see how my lawyer handled it. A small trust to buy tip any such claim, with a fifty-year conversion of any remainder to a named charity."

"Uh, let me find it. Mmm, Mrs. Salomon, do you call ten million dollars ‘small'?"

"Yes."

"Mmm. Perhaps I had better look closely at the other financial provisions. Have you been advised that, even though the Commission claims only half of your fortune, the other half cannot be used to buy you anything on the Moon? In other words, poor or rich, on the Moon out-migrants start off equal."

"I know that, Mr. Barnes. Believe me, my attorney, Mr. Train, is most careful. He searched the law and made certain that I knew the consequences of my acts—because he did not approve of them. To put it briefly Alec Train said that anyone who goes to the Moon to live must be out of his head. So he tried to talk me out of what he regards as my folly. You'll find four other possible heirs in ‘Appendix F'—my granddaughters. It is to their advantage to accept what is offered there... as they are told bluntly how much worse off they will be if they wait for me to die. A poor bet for them in any case; I am now physiologically younger than they are; I'll probably outlive all of them."

"That could be true. Especially on the Moon, one could add. I wish I could out-migrate myself. But I can't afford to pay for it the way you can and lawyers are not in demand there. Well, your Mr. Train seems to have thought of most aspects. Let's look at your balance sheet."

"One moment, sir. I have asked for one small measure of special treatment."

"Eh? All out-migrants are treated alike. Must be."

"A very small thing, Mr. Barnes. My baby will be born not long after I arrive on Luna. I've asked to have Dr.

Garcia continue to attend me through that time."

"I can't promise that, Madam. Sorry. Policy."

She started slowly to get up. "Then I'm not going through with it."

"Uh—good God! Is this really your net worth?"

She shrugged. "What is the worth of one pregnant woman, sir? I suppose it depends on your values."

"I didn't mean that. This balance sheet— If it's correct, you're not just wealthy—I knew that—you're a billionaire!"

"Possibly. I haven't added it. That summary was prepared through Chase Manhattan with the assistance of accountancy firms listed there. I suppose it's correct, unless some computer got the hiccups. But give it back to me...since the Commission can't promise me Dr. Garcia to deliver my baby."

"Please, Madam. I have certain latitude in these matters. I simply don't exercise it—ordinarily. Policy."

"Whose policy, Mr. Barnes? The Commission's? Or yours?"

"Eh? Why, mine. I said so."

"Then quit wasting my time, you damned idiot!"

(‘That's telling him, Fat Lady!') (Eunice, this is one fat lady who isn't going to take any more nonsense. My back aches.)

The blast almost caused Mr. Barnes to fall out of his swivel chair. He recovered his balance, said: "Please, Madam Salomon!"

"Young man, let's have no more nonsense! I'm far gone in pregnancy, as you cart see. You've lectured me about the dangers of childbirth—and you aren't a doctor. You've pried into personal matters with the gall of a kinsey. You've tried to tell me I can't have my own doctor when he is going in the same ship—and now it turns out that it was not a Commission regulation but merely petty tyranny on your part. Bullying. All through this nonsense—although I've appeared with a complete and carefully prepared proposal—you've kept me sitting on a hard uncomfortable chair. My back aches. On how many poor helpless applicants have you fattened your ego? But I am neither ‘poor' nor ‘helpless'. You spoke of a ‘chill breeze.' It's an icy blast now. I bloody well mean to have your job!"

"Please, Madam! I said you could have your own doctor. And I am required to review each applicant's proposal."

"Then get your lazy arse out of that comfortable chair and give it to me! You come sit in this ducking stool."

"Very well, Ma'am." They exchanged chairs. Shortly he said, "I see that you are putting almost all of the other fifty percent of your fortune into starship research and development."

"It's none of your business what I do with it."

"I didn't say it was. It just struck me as...unusual."

"Why? My child may want to go in a starship. I want that research to move. Mr. Barnes, you've had time to look at that proposal; if you hadn't talked so much, you could have it memorized by now. Do whatever it is you do. Mark your X, or stamp your chop. Or hand it back and let me out of here. Now! Not five minutes from now—but now. My back still hurts. You're a pain in the back, Mr. Barnes, you and your petty ‘policy' and your worthless talk."

He signed it. "Through that door, Madam Salomon."

"Thank you." She started toward it.

"You're barely welcome-you ancient bitch!"

Joan Eunice stopped, turned back, and smiled her best golden-sunrise smile. "Why, thank you, dear! That's the best thing you've said to me. Because it is utterly honest. Of course I'm not welcome, the way I've stormed at you—and answered your bullying with worse bullying. And I am indeed both a bitch and ancient."

"I shouldn't have said that."

"Oh, but you should have. I richly deserved it, but I would never have tried to get your job—truly, I'm not that petty. That was just backache bad temper talking. I admire your spunk in telling me off. What is your first name?"

"Uh, ‘Matthew.'"

"A good name, Matthew. A strong name." Joan Eunice came back, stood close to him. "Matthew, I'm going to the Moon. I'll never be back this way again. Will you forgive this ancient bitch and let us part friends? Will you kiss me good-bye? I've no one to see me off, Matthew—will you kiss me good-bye as I leave for the Moon?"

"Uh—"

"Please, Matthew. Uh, mind the big belly; turn me a little sideways—that's better." She wet her lips, lifted her face, and closed her eyes.

Presently she sighed and nestled closer. "Matthew? Will you let me love you? Oh, I don't mean seduce you, it's too late for that, I'm about benched. Just tell me that I may think of you with love as I go to the Moon. It's a long way off and I'm a little scared—and I lived too long without love and want to love everyone who will let me... any who will love me back even a little. Will you, dear? Or is this bitch too ancient?"

"Uh, Madam Salomon—"

"'Eunice,' Matthew."

"Eunice. Eunice, you're a sparky little bitch, you really are. But I kept you sitting there—even before I realized who you are——because I like looking at you. Hell, honey, my wife says I can love any woman I want to—ten percent of what I love her."

"Ten percent is a good return on any investment, Matthew. All right, please love me that ten percent—and I'll love you ten percent of what I loved—still love!— my darling husband. Is there enough love in that ten percent for a second kiss? It's a long way to the Moon—they must keep me warm all the way." She closed her eyes and waited.

(Hey, twin, lover boy is doing better this time.) (Don't bother me now, I'm busy!)

Presently Mr. Barnes murmured, "Lovely."

"All swollen and fat now, that's why I wear styles that cover them. But you should have seen Eunice—the first Eunice, my benefactrix—at her lovely best... in styles to show it."

"I still say they're lovely. I guess we had better stop this, I've got a roomful of people waiting out there. And you have almost four hours of processing before you go on to quarantine. If you want to go to Andes Port with your own doctor, you had better go now."

"Yes, Matthew. I love you—ten percent—and I'll still be loving you on the Moon. At compound interest. Through that door?"

"Through there and follow the signs. Good-bye, Eunice. Take care of yourself."

(Boss, that's either a new high or a new low. Was he kissing us? Or a billion dollars?) (It seemed to me—though I'm still learning compared with you two trollops—that the young man started out kissing a billion dollars... and wound up kissing Joan. Us. Quite well, too. Dears, I find that my animal nature has been considerably stirred—I'm looking forward to us being back in circulation again.) (Hell, yes, Jock darling, we all are. It occurs to me, Joan, that there must be lots of homesick out-migrants who will appreciate a simple country girl who learned clear back in junior high to kiss with her eyes closed and her lips open.) (Eunice, that's what I'm counting on. Seven billion people makes Earth a terribly lonely place...but there are only a few thousand on Luna and, if we try, we can get to know all of them and love most of them. What do you think, Jake?) (Johann, we can try. We will. Wups, here's our first stop. ‘Physical.' Goose bumps and indignities. But what the hell?—somebody kissed us good-bye.)